


Flutter

by adexia



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Captivity, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Whump, Wings, suffocation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-10 16:58:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15296001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adexia/pseuds/adexia
Summary: An ornamental young man with moth wings is faced with "retirement" from a Collector's public display.Fill #3 for Bad Things Happen Bingo: Suffocation





	Flutter

F’teri can’t remember the last time he was able to see the moon clearly. All he’s able to do it look up at it longingly through a web of ceiling-mounted windowpanes and the false branches of his display as the collector’s guests mill around, ooh-ing and ahh-ing as a prompt for him to pay attention and flutter his wings prettily for their entertainment. He’s jealous of the mermaid in her aquarium across the room; although her display might be cramped, she’s at least told him that being in water makes it comfortable enough to bear.

F’teri sighs, watching her flash her fins and smile for her gathering of onlookers, before seeing movement near his own display. He tears his eyes away, looking down at the guest with his best and most charming smile, flaring his leaf-green wings out for zem to admire. Zey smile back, approaching his pedestal. He finds it unusual how… _plainly_ zey seem to be presenting zemself, wearing only a black gown and black shawl. Usually the Collector’s parties were an excuse for humans to show up in their gaudiest finery.

“He’s a pretty one, isn’t he?” the man in question asks, approaching the guest from behind. Zey don’t take zer eyes off of F’teri, but do nod in response. “You seem to be one of the few interested in him tonight, though, Mx…”

“Oh, call me Kim,” zey answer, finally turning to face the Collector and shake his hand. F’teri leans in close to watch. It wasn’t often he got to listen in on a conversation lately. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Grosvenor.”

Grosvenor smiles. “It’s a bit of a shame, but I think this might be his last night before I retire him,” he says after limply accepting the handshake. F’teri’s heart starts racing. The last time a display was retired, he never saw them again, even in storage. “He’s just not drawing as much of a crowd anymore, and he’s getting to be troublesome to keep in check, but I’d still like him for my private collection.”

“Is that so,” Kim says, turning to watch F’teri again. He remembers to smile, but it feels faker than usual.

Grosvenor nods. “My people have found another flutterkin that might be more popular to take his place, so don’t worry!” he assures the guest, beaming jovially. “Based on the reports, I understand this one has _clear wings_. Now, that’ll be something to see!”

Kim smiles, but F’teri feels it’s about as genuine as his own. “It sure will, Mr. Grosvenor.”

A flashier guest catches Grosvenor’s attention, and the Collector excuses himself with barely a word. Kim returns zer attention to F’teri, dropping zer smile and putting a hand up to the glass. He clambers down from his perch onto the soft synthetic moss at the bottom of his display, desperately putting his hand up to mirror the other. “Help me,” he whispers.

Kim glances around, nods quickly, and strides away to chat up a small group of guests. F’teri tries to catch sight of zem again, but either zey left early or zer plainness is just lost in the crowd.

\---

The party drags on for what seems like hours longer than usual, with F’teri putting on his best show for the scant few guests that come by. When the last stragglers finally trickle out and the lights are lowered for the cleaning crew, he sags onto the moss, resting his forehead on the cool glass. Maybe the Collector changed his mind when he saw how attractively he fluttered his wings and caught the eye of a few more guests than normal. Maybe he wouldn’t go into the private collection.

The familiar jolt of the display lowering into storage is a bit of a relief; he finally gets to eat and sleep. He’s more than ready for both.

Two employees in protective cloth masks are waiting for him, and his heart starts to race again when he sees that neither of them has his food packet. He folds his wings up tight and backs up against the far wall of his display before one of them unlocks the front. If he’s quick, he can make a break for it.

The glass door swings open, and he waits for one of the employees to step in and try to grab for him before ducking under their arms and darting out the front, for once glad of his short stature. The other moves to intercept him, and he slides between their legs, ignoring the cold metal floor on his bare feet as he dashes wildly into the storage area.

He doesn’t get very far as a third employee snags his arm, pulling him up and into the air. “Let me go!” F’teri yells, flapping his wings in a desperate bid to get airborne or scatter dust into his captor’s eyes.

The two other employees join the third, and manage to force his arms and wings down with a length of cording. That doesn’t stop him from thrashing in their grip, trying to bite them whenever he gets close enough to do so. He doesn’t know where they’re taking him, but there’s no way he’s going to come out of it unscathed. Not after his last escape attempts.

The trio of manhandlers free him from the binding cord and tip him unceremoniously into another glass box. Before he can make a move to stand, a lid hisses closed. He gets up to his knees, and immediately recognizes that this is too small for him to stand or be comfortable in.

The Collector comes into view, looking down at F’teri with pure disappointment. F’teri glares back up at him, hands pressing on the glass. “I’d really hoped you would learn to behave at all,” Grosvenor chides. “Even now, you try to cause trouble for me.” He sighs.

“Let me out of here!” F’teri demands, slapping the barrier between them.

Grosvenor rests his elbow on the lid of the box, ignoring F’teri’s protest and turning to yet another employee. “How long did you say it’ll take?” he asks.

“About fifteen minutes, Mr. Grosvenor,” she says promptly. “I’d wait twenty just in case.”

Grosvenor grunts and nods, looking down at the angry flutterkin. “I’ll let you out of there in twenty minutes,” he says. “Enjoy them while they last.” He pats the lid amiably and walks out.

F’teri turns to the employee, trying to flare his wings in the cramped space he has. “What did he mean?”

“Private collection time, son,” she answers, pressing some buttons. He hears another hissing sound come from the lid, and he looks up to see it pressing further into place. “You should’ve tried harder.” She sits back in a rolling chair and picks up a tablet.

“No!” F’teri cries, pounding a fist on the glass, to no avail. “Let me _out!_ ” The employee doesn’t even look at him. He looks around the small glass cage, sends his fingers around the edges, searching for any weakness or cracks or even gaps, but there are none to be found. His breath picks up in panic, and that makes him start to panic more.

He slaps the glass repeatedly with an open palm, trying to get the employee’s attention, and when that doesn’t work, he switches to pounding with his fist. The small space does nothing for his rapid breathing, and his rapid breathing does nothing for his rapidly dwindling air. He slams his forehead onto the glass, but all that does is make his head hurt. He slams it down again and leaves it there, crying out in frustration and fear. Tears well up and he blinks them out of his eyes.

“Please, I’ll be better,” he sobs, placing his hands on the still unbroken glass. “I’ll be good, just don’t put me in the collection.” Still no reaction. “I promise I’ll be good, I’ll do anything…” He weakly flutters his wings, though whatever display he’d be able to put on is hampered by his prison. “Please.”

Already his breaths don’t seem to fill his lungs as much as they should. He sobs weakly, feeling light and faint in the head, knowing he doomed himself too quickly in his panic. “I don’t wanna die,” he whispers to no one. He remembers Mx. Kim from the party, and his plea for help from zem. Maybe if he closes his eyes and lets himself drift off, he can imagine that zey are coming to his rescue.

He lets his eyes slip closed, feeling more tears spill down his cheeks as his lungs start to ache. “Help me,” he whispers.

A sudden _bang_ almost drags him back to alertness. A _bang_ followed by a very close scream does tugs him back awake. He drags his head up, seeing the employee stationed by him falling out of her chair. Oh. What’s that about.

He falls down onto his side, lacking even the energy to shut his eyes again now. People are shouting, but the blooming black and white spots dancing in front of his eyes are louder. He sees a bright light, and his fingers twitch as he tries to grab for it.

The glass around him shatters, and cold air whooshes in around him. Instinctively he takes a deep breath, and suddenly his lungs fill. He shudders and coils around himself, wheezing and protecting himself from the shards. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” a vaguely familiar voice says, lifting him up out of the remains of the cage. “I’ve got you.”

“Kang, can you get him out of here?” another voice asks. Mx. Kang? Kim? F’teri doesn’t remember what it’s supposed to be, but zer arms are warm and solid and he feels very protected. “We’ll handle the rest.”

“On it,” Kang says, adjusting F’teri in zer grip so zey don’t crush his wings. There’s movement--he’s being carried at a pretty good pace. He blinks and tries to sit up, looking up to see the guest in the plain black dress, only this time zey’re in a black denim jacket and wool cap. Zey look down at the flutterkin and smile, genuinely and warmly this time. “I’m Jihyo,” zey say. “We’re busting all of you out of here.”

F’teri doesn’t have an answer for that. He just throws his arms around zer neck, weeping in relief.


End file.
